Dedicated to The Memory of Annalita (Homer) Tarlton
October 12, 1942 - April 28, 2007
Preface
When these memoirs were first started in May of 2007, they were of the events leading up to and following the Home-going of Annalita (Homer) Tarlton. But they now include other events of Annalita’s and my life. So it was from the beginning a work in progress with almost daily editing and additions. I thought I would just go ahead and share this with my friends, loved ones, and anyone else who wants to take the time and interest to read it. It is along the lines of the way I have—from the beginning with the main event of Annalita’s Home-going—been sharing details with friends, loved ones, and anyone who wanted to take the time and interest. It contains sadness, humor, tender moments, “terms of endearment,” and even anger. But I am preserving information important to me. I believe the information is pertinent to the overall subject matter. It may have more to do with me being an open book as opposed to being secretive, or private, or just keeping in confidence what others entrust to us. Annalita would often say to me, “[You] Tell all my business! Don’t be telling my business!” But there is e-mail included in the text. The e-mail included serves at least two purposes: it contains information important to me, and then it illustrates that we as Christians really do need each other and support each other in this way. We are all human, and “we all stumble in many ways.” But please realize I am just trying the best I can to deal with my grief in losing my wife, my soul mate.
[Please realize your e-mail may be included. But please do e-mail me. I am always looking for e-mail, both general, such as forwarded, and personal, which encourages me the most. But please bear with me, and realize that I am just trying to deal with deep pain and sorrow the best I can. You are all my support group. “Keep the letters coming.” AND PLEASE SEND ME A COPY OF ALL PICTURES, VIDEOS, ETC. YOU HAVE OF ANNALITA. Find and send just a few at a time so you don’t spend too much time finding and sending. But I want every picture of Annalita there is. I prefer that you send copies that are good quality, but if you are unable to take the time and effort, I will certainly accept pictures sent by e-mal. I will reimburse you for any expense. I will send you pictures you may want. But the more pictures, etc. I have of Annalita the more of Annalita I have. It really helps me. Do the same for others who have lost loved ones.
Pastor Ray Tarlton, (mail: PO Box 1116) 2145 H Street, Winterhaven, CA 92283.
Phone: 760-572-5565; cell: 928-234-6924; e-mail: rtarltn7@aol.com]
I
I Met Jesus, Then I Met Annalita Homer
She has now gone Home, and now I want to go Home too.
In these opening paragraphs is a brief record of the events in my life leading up to the most important decision of my own personal life, which was second only to my decision to commit my heart and life to Jesus Christ. That decision was the commitment of my heart and life to the late Annalita (Homer) Tarlton, who was born October 12, 1942, and went Home to Jesus April 28, 2007.
I repented of my sins and asked Jesus into my heart and life at the age of thirteen. I completely committed my heart and life to Him at the age of 16. Following my graduation from Western High School in Latham, Ohio, in 1969, I enlisted in the Army, and served as a medical corpsman from 1970 to 1971. I discharged from the Army while stationed at Fort Carson, Colorado, just outside of Colorado Springs, Colorado. Following my discharge I attended Nazarene Bible College in Colorado Springs, Colorado, intermittently from 1971 to 1979, while working as a nurse’s aid. I attended Mid-America Nazarene College in Olathe, Kansas, 1979 to 1980, and earned the Bachelor of Arts Degree in Religion. I attended Nazarene Theological Seminary August of 1980 through the fall of 1981. While at seminary I attended Chapel Hill Church of the Nazarene, where I met Annalita Homer in the summer of 1981.
II
The Beginning of a New Life Together
Twenty-Five Years of Marriage, Twenty-Five Years of Ministry
I had recently decided I would never get married. I was what people call a confirmed bachelor. Then something unexpected and wonderful happened.
It all started when I was a student at Nazarene Theological Seminary in Kansas City, MO, after graduating in 1980 from Mid-America Nazarene College in Olathe, Kansas, with a Bachelor of Arts degree in religion. It was in one of my mission classes. We were given a group assignment. The other two in the group were Harold Chris Smith and Stan Meek. Through this assignment, I got acquainted with Chris, and he soon invited me to share his apartment, because I had just finished at Mid-America Nazarene College, and had yet to find a place to stay in Kansas City. He attended Chapel Hill Church of the Nazarene, and I soon started attending with him. I am eternally thankful to him for inviting me when I was looking for a place to stay and when I needed a place to worship. He was a true brother in Christ, and we soon became good friends. I now consider him my best friend. And it is because of his Christ-likeness and friendship that the unexpected and wonderful happened.
My first memory of meeting Annalita Homer was when the pastor had me pick her up for a Board of Christian Life meeting at the Chapel Hill Church of the Nazarene, 2918 Harrison Avenue, Kansas City, MO in the summer of 1981. I asked her what her nationality was. She told me she was Native American. Her dad was Quechan, her mother Mojave. I told her I knew she was one of the beautiful people, like Native American, Hawaiian, etc. I learned she did not attend Sunday night and Wednesday night because she was afraid to take the city bus at night. So I added her to my list of people to pick up for church, as the bus ministry was my particular area of ministry in the church during my days in Nazarene Theological Seminary. I had never met her before because she helped count the offering after the morning service, and I left right away to take people home.
The actual sequence of events in my memory is not 100% certain. But I recall I had just dropped off the last of the people before taking Annalita home at the farthest place on my route. She told me she would be going to someplace—I think it may have been Nampa, Idaho—to check on a job opportunity with an increase in salary and more benefits. I told her I wished her the best, but we all of course preferred that she stay here with us. The following service when I was taking her home from church, she told me she had decided to stay here. I always liked to think it was because of me. Aaaaay! I think it was perhaps later that evening she called me on the phone. I asked her why she called. She said she just liked talking to me. Some time after that Earleen Keller, who was one of the closest to the church on the route, wanted to go for a ride. I stayed at a church-owned house next to the church, so I always ended the bus route back at the church, and so I dropped Earleen off last on this occasion. So she was with us when I took Annalita home. When Annalita got out of the church van, Earleen suggested I walk her to the door. So Earleen was also instrumental in God’s plans. I don’t know if it was then, or it may have been an evening later on. But I remember I kissed Annalita goodnight. She asked why I did that. I told her I just felt it was the right thing to do. I asked her what made her breath so sweet and refreshing. She said she was chewing Wrigley’s Double mint gum.
Soon after that she invited me to her home to eat with her. She had forgotten I was coming. All she had was hot dogs and macaroni and cheese. After she put mustard on her hot dog, she set the mustard down. I proceeded to put mustard on my hot dog. It would not come out, so I squeezed hard and it splattered all over! I did not realize she had closed the bottle. But she got mustard on her light blue blouse. She later told people it took a long time to get the mustard stains out of her blouse. Whenever we told that story to others through the years, she said she should have known then what it would be like. I would sometimes say the same thing. I was just kidding. She may have been serious, though saying it jokingly.
As I spent time with her I discovered that the more I was with Annalita the more I wanted to be with her. Soon I could not stand it to be away from her. I always told people over the years to know her was to love her. One night after taking her home from church she invited me in. We spent some intimate moments together (that means we kissed and embraced, which I did not believe in but could not help myself), and I asked her to marry me. She said she would think about it. I think it was the next day in the library at the seminary, I was studying, and she was there with me at the table where we were seated. She just said to me the answer is yes. I asked her what. She said yes, she would marry me. I said oh, ok. I think I just knew that she would say yes, so I was not surprised. I think I knew God had arranged the whole thing. I knew I had to be quiet in the library. I never was an emotional person. I had earlier told her that I’m not the romantic type. Years later when I did a personality test I discovered I am 100% quiet type. These observations are the only way I can understand and explain why I did not express myself loudly and joyfully. I don’t think I was resigned to my fate. I really believe—it bears repetition—I just knew this was God’s will, and was not at all surprised. But I also think I was quiet on the outside but dancing for joy on the inside. But this quiet personality and lack of exuberant expression of joy from being told yes is illustrated by the lack of proper use in punctuation, such as, “yes” and, “Oh, OK.”
That must have been sometime in August or September of 1981, because I remember we were together for just a month or two before we were married. It could have been as early as June or July, but I am pretty sure it was no more than three months at the most that we were engaged. She had originally planned for March of the following year, 1982. But because I could not stand to be away from her, she moved the date up to October 10, 1981. [I hope to be able at some point to include pictures. I need more pictures, Reverends Dave and Lora Wooster, Rev. Tim Kilby, Rev. Rick Klimkowski, and anyone else who has them!]
The pastor, Rick Klimkowski, scheduled premarital counseling, but we never made it to any of the sessions. He said it was OK, because we were both old enough to know. Annalita was thirty-nine and I was thirty.
At some point before the wedding day, I was on the phone with Annalita. I don’t know which of us called. But She was having second thoughts about getting married. I told her I wanted her to be happy, and that I surrendered to her will. I compared it with sanctification in talking with her on the phone. I don’t know what else was said, but she did show up at the church for the wedding. I did later learn that the pastor had to talk with her before the wedding because she still had “cold feet.” People tell me that this is a normal thing experienced by many people. Maybe she was bothered by the mustard incident! Aaaay!
We spent the next seven years in ministry together. She had already been there at Chapel Hill for about ten years, and was a charter member (the church was later renamed Beacon Hill, with a move a block away to a new location, I think on the northwest corner of 28th and Troost). I had been attending for about a year. So later when I applied for a church on the Southwest Indian District, Church of the Nazarene, the eight years I indicated was accurate. Our lay ministry involved pretty much every area of ministry in the church, as also was indicated in that application. We did bus ministry, worked with children, taught Sunday School, did Children’s musicals, directed the children’s ministries, did nursing home ministry, did visitation, helped with Vacation Bible School, preached, etc.—the list was quite extensive, so much so that the church in Needles where we were later assigned in September of 1988 thought we had been in the pastoral ministry for eight years. There were actually several ministries I did not include in the list.
We first came into contact with the Southwest Indian District, Church of the Nazarene, when Annalita learned that Rev. Dr. Julian Gunn, their district superintendent, would be conducting revival services at a Church of the Nazarene in Pleasanton, Kansas, about seventy miles south of Kansas City, MO, on Highway 169. We attended one or more services and talked with Dr. Gunn about our interest in serving on his district. We talked with him again on the phone, and not too long after that revival when he was in Kansas City for a district superintendents’ meeting. We met him and his wife, Bernita (Cachora) Gunn at a Denny’s restaurant, where we made more definite plans for him to contact us regarding two or more churches in need of a pastor. Annalita is related to Dr. Gunn on her mother’s side, and to Bernita on her father’s side. He sent me an information form for presenting to whatever church might consider calling us to be their pastor. We were first considered by Lehi Church of the Nazarene, in the Pima community on the east side of Phoenix, actually the town of Mesa, a suburb of Phoenix. Bernita (Cachora) Gunn, who was the church board secretary, wrote us a letter telling us the church board voted unanimously to extend the call to be their pastor. But we were told, either by the pastor, former missionary to the Navajos,
Rev. Beulah Campbell, or by Bernita that the congregation had to vote. After waiting for a month or more, I finally called Rev. Campbell and asked her. She told me the congregation said they did not know us, so there was no two-thirds majority vote. I called Annalita where she worked at Veterinary Pharmaceutical Laboratories in Lenexa, Kansas, and told her. It was like I had laryngitis, I was so disappointed. But
Dr. Gunn called us shortly after that and told us Needles wanted us to come to be their pastor. We pastored there September 4, 1988 to January 17, 1999—more than ten years. The people wanted us to stay, and we wanted to stay, but we felt God wanted us to move to Winterhaven Quechan Church of the Nazarene, where we pastored January 19, 1999 to the present, October 27, 2007—eight and a half years.
Some of the factors involved in the move from Needles to Winterhaven involved Annalita’s parents. Her mom, Rhoda (Thomas) Homer, passed away January of 1998. Her dad told us at some point within the following two years, 1998 to 1999, that he was going to call Kansas City to come close the church in Winterhaven. It was just him and Shirley Kelly that were tithing. The attendance was down to about nine in average on Sunday mornings. Our people in Needles had been trained by us for over ten years. They had a core of about ten people in active roles of ministry, and two or more new families attending. Some of the people had been at Nazarene Indian Bible College for training. So we knew they were in good hands. So these were some of the factors in our decision to respond to God’s call to Winterhaven.
Our number of years in marriage coincided with our number of years in ministry together, which was October 10, 1981 to April 28, 2007—twenty-five years, six months, eighteen days. Our time together on this earth ended with Annalita’s Home-going April 28, 2007, 3:00 a.m.
III
Annalita (Homer) Tarlton’s Home-going
Annalita's dad went to be with Jesus June 19, 2006 when we were returning from Phoenix Indian Medical Center (PIMC) for her referral for a colonoscopy. That colonoscopy later indicated a cancerous tumor in her ascending colon. Surgery in September of 2006 to remove the ascending colon also revealed that the cancer had metastasized to her liver. Chemo did not stop the growth of the cancer in her liver. The first chemo caused dark spots on her tongue (she would laugh and say she was part Chow or Malamute—she loves doggies), chaffing of the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet, discoloring them almost black, and sensitivity to cold. She had to avoid contact with cold objects for five days following each treatment. It would cause a sensation like a severe electric shock. She wore cotton gloves before the chaffing started, and then they told her to wear mittens to help with the chaffing. The cancer specialist prescribed for her feet and hands an ointment that is specially made for cows’ udders, I think called “Udder Balm.” After they finished the treatments they did a C.A.T. scan and said the chemo was not working, the cancer in her liver was still growing. A more aggressive chemo caused nausea, diarrhea, hair loss, fever, and severe crippling muscle soreness. She eventually was confined to a wheelchair, but was able to ambulate. We attended the funeral of Violet Perkins, district missionary president for about thirteen years. Halfway through the service Annalita had to go out to the car to lie down. After we left the service I wanted to take her to a Catherine’s clothing store. I headed for the one we went to last time in Phoenix on Northern off Loop 101. She eventually got upset because she had wanted to go to the one in Chandler around Alma School Road and Warner, and then through Mobil to Gila Bend and home. I now realize also that she may have wanted to go to the new malls off Loop 202 southeast, in the Gilbert and Chandler area. She was always looking for places to get supplies for various ministries in the church. I failed to realize this until we had just gotten off of I-10 and were going north on Loop 101. She said to go on home, but I wanted her to have some new dresses to replace the ones that were now too big for her. So I continued on to Catherine’s on Northern. Once there, she would not go in. I went in to see what they had. I saw some dresses that were her size and style. I went out and told her, but she still refused to go in, so I just took her home as she insisted. She wanted to attend the funeral of Sarah Lee, wife of Pastor Freddie Lee of Pine Hill Church of the Nazarene, the next day, Saturday, but she was unable. Annalita had gotten closely acquainted with Sarah Lee at district women’s retreats. Blood work at Phoenix Indian Medical Center on Wednesday, April 11, 2007 indicated low readings in all categories. We were told there was nothing more they could do, and to start hospice care. The chemo specialist left the exam room, leaving Annalita and I with the chaplain/pharmacist lady. I went to Annalita and put my arm around her and I broke down. I told the chaplain I wasn’t ready to give up. The chaplain conferred with Tim Matthews, physician’s assistant in the oncology department. He was going to check into alternative medicine. But, as he told me several days later over the phone, even alternative medicine was now no option due to the low readings in her blood work. The cancer specialist wanted to prescribe morphine, but after he left the pharmacist/ chaplain lady asked Annalita if she thought she had done well with Oxycodone before. Annalita said yes, so she went out to suggest it to the cancer specialist, which he approved. When we left the hospital we went to see Elmer Emerson in a hospital in Scottsdale. Annalita stayed in the car while I saw him. I took her to Catherine’s clothing on Northern off Loop 101. She went in this time and bought one dress. A few hours later on our way home we received word that Elmer Emerson passed away. Elmer Emerson was an eighty-two year old elder of the tribe. But I remember, Annalita was crying. She said, “I wonder if I’ll be next.” With these three passing away (Violet Perkins, Sarah Lee, and Elmer Emerson), Annalita was adversely affected. She was in church the following Sunday, April 15. She played the piano for our song service. I noticed we were singing slower than usual. I didn’t realize our song leader, Associate Pastor Paul Soto, was singing slowly because Annalita was playing slow. She had trouble finding the right key on the second hymn. Following the offering and special congregational hymn, I helped Annalita down from the platform to her wheelchair. Rev. Soto had been doing all the preaching for a couple of months while we were dealing with Annalita’s illness. During the message, Annalita told me to take her home—she was about to fall out of her wheelchair. She had planned to go to town to prepare something special for the evening service. (After her dad passed away, no one attended Sunday School. Associate Pastor Paul Soto, adult class SS teacher, was the only one there except on rare occasions. Debra Delgado had been attending, but with Paul Homer’s passing she quit. So Annalita had arranged for Rev. Soto to present the lesson Sunday nights. I conducted the service then turned it over to him to present the lesson. It was in the format of a lecture, or even like a sermon. After the lesson was presented, Annalita would give prizes to the ones who memorized scripture. So she had planned to go to town to get more prizes, and I think she had something else planned for after church.) But she was tired and had me help her into bed. I woke her about thirty minutes before church and asked if she felt like going. She said, “OK, I’ll go.” As I was helping her into her wheelchair, she said, “You’re making me go, aren’t you.” I said, “No, I asked if you wanted to go…let’s get you back into bed, then.” She said, “No, let’s just go.” We got there about thirty-five minutes late. But I’m glad she went. After the service she had her last good visit with family and friends: Wilma (Cachora) Solis, April (Solis) Quintero, Isaiah Daniel Quintero, Vivian (Townsend) Menta, and I think Vivian’s granddaughters, Vanessa and Olivia—I don’t remember who else was there. Some family members, Glenda (Cachora) Ghiotto, Vida (Cachora) and Jesse Moreno, Mona Ghiotto, and Mona’s daughter, Reece, were in Phoenix with their brother and uncle Dale Cachora having surgery on his knee and pacemaker. But I got her home and helped her into bed. During the night she called me to help her up to the bathroom. But as I tried to help her turn over to get up, she screamed and said, “You’re hurting me! You’re hurting me!” I never could get her up—it hurt her to be moved. All I could do was move her enough to keep her from being wet. I checked her every half hour through the night. When I checked her in the morning, she had turned onto her left side. I changed her bed. She didn’t want to move. She used to tell me, “Work with me!” when I had trouble understanding what she wanted. Remembering this and trying to encourage her, I said, “Work with me, work with me!” She said, “Oh, shut up!” I think it was Monday I helped her up to the bedside commode. She was dead weight. As I turned with her to set her on the commode, she made an involuntary sound, like air being forced out of her lungs from pressure. It sounded like I injured her. It caused me to feel horrible. So Monday and Tuesday she was up to the bedside commode just once each day. It was just a small amount of dark urine. This continued throughout the week. One time I checked on her and saw her arm move. I asked her if she needed to go to the bathroom. “No!” she said. Did she need a pain pill—“No!” Did she want something to drink—“No!” Did she want to try to eat something—“No! You bother me!” I went out of the room and heard her say something. I went back in and asked her what she said—“You bother me!” I went back out—she was facing away from the door. I stood in the doorway—she couldn’t see me—“You bother me! You just bother me!” So I made sure I didn’t bother her unless she called me. The Oxycodone made her sleepy. One form of it was prescribed for every 12 hours, another every 2 hours as needed for pain. But all she wanted to do was sleep. Ramona Johnson, one of her cousins in Parker, told me when she and their aunt, Elsie Scott, had been taking it, it made them drowsy and confused at times. One time Annalita thought she still had her slippers on. She said, “Take my shoes off!” I kept telling her they were off. Another time she asked, “How long are we going to be here? I want to go home. Take me home.” I told her we are home, where we’ve been for eight years. Did she mean her dad’s house, or back to Needles where we pastored for ten years? Or did she mean Heaven? I told her it’s not time to go there, you have to wait for God’s timing. I wanted to keep her here as long as possible, of course. Another time I could not understand what she was saying. Finally I thought it was, “Dirt from the ground!” “ ‘Dirt from the ground!’ ?” I asked. “Yes! Dirt from the ground, dirt from the ground!” I never did understand what she was talking about. I do know though that Indians sometimes ate clay or even dirt to settle an upset stomach. I think I did ask her about it, but she had gone back to sleep, I think. It may have been something she dreamed. During that week I tried to contact oncology at PIMC. We finally made contact after leaving several messages for each other. It was Tim Matthews, physician assistant. He told me not to worry about her not eating, most of us could live for a while off our body fat. His main concern was that she be kept comfortable. Her chemo nurse also returned one of my calls. She told me to do whatever Annalita told me to do, that her comfort and wishes had first priority. This was all a part of hospice care, making a person’s last days as comfortable as possible. But when I told Tim Matthews about her confusion, he said I needed to take her in to the emergency room. Others told me Oxycodone made a person confused. So I was confused about whether to take her to the hospital. The hospital was the last place she wanted to be. It certainly would not make her comfortable. But throughout that week she drank just a little ice water. She ate a few spoons of Jell-O one day, another day two bites of applesauce. Then Wednesday, April 18, she had been scheduled for follow-up blood work at Fort Yuma Indian Hospital. That morning she ate half of a bowl of cream of wheat. She was able to stand on her own and get into her wheelchair, and go in for her appointment. The doctor asked her if she ate anything—“Yes, a big bowl of cream of wheat!” The doctor told me the results of the blood work would be in on Friday. But that Wednesday, after the doctor saw her, we waited for a nurse to give her a shot. I don’t remember what the shot was for, but I remember it wasn’t critical. Maybe it was a flu shot (?!). After waiting about fifteen minutes, she wailed, “What’s taking them so long!” I jumped up and said I’d go see—“Just sit down!” Finally, she got tired of waiting—she was hurting and tired. So we just left. When we got home, she wanted to sit up in her recliner in the living room. She stayed there until around 5:00 p.m. She then was ready to go to bed—she couldn’t move to get comfortable. I tried to help her position herself to stand, but she wanted to do it herself—“Don’t rush me!” I knew I could not leave her, so I called Wilma (Cachora) Gunn and Vivian (Townsend) Menta to do the missionary service and mission study. But Annalita could not stand on her own. I had to put my hands under her bottom and push/pull her up. Once up she could support her weight, and I helped her slowly turn to sit in her wheelchair. I got her to her room to the bedside commode, and helped her in the same way. When she was finished and ready to go to bed, I pushed/pulled her up to her feet. But her legs gave out, and I had to ease her back down to the commode. I slowly moved the commode to her bedside and had to just pick her up to put her into bed. She was like a rag doll. But that Wednesday morning was her last “good day.” Thursday she ate half of a six-ounce container of yogurt. Friday she ate a few bites of Jell-O. And during that week at home she liked ice water, but drank just a little at a time. That same Friday, April 20, I went in for the results of the blood work done on Wednesday. The doctor showed me the readout on a computer. Everything was in red, confirming the blood work results at PIMC April 11. Saturday she had difficulty speaking and swallowing. I found her pain pill on her bed—I had thought she swallowed it. I gave her another pain pill, and thought I made sure she swallowed it. Before noon I realized she was really in trouble. Her beading buddy best friend Vivian (Townsend) Menta called and asked how she was doing. When I told her, she said, “Take her in! Do it now! Don’t wait!” A few times through the week I had to tell her if she didn’t do certain things, such as eat, drink fluids, go to the bathroom, take her stool softener, etc., she would have to go the hospital. She would do what she needed to do because she did not want to go the hospital. The hospital is like a torture chamber for her. But her bowels had not moved for at least a week, and I knew she was dehydrated. I went to her bedside and knelt down. Holding her hand, I told her, “Annalita, I have to take you in to the hospital.” I broke down as I said this. She said, “Oh, Fred!” I don’t know if she meant my breaking down or taking her to the hospital or both. The paramedics found her pain pill on her bed when they came. I should have grabbed her pain pills, but didn’t think in the excitement. I kept telling them to be gentle. In the emergency room, she needed something for pain, but they had to wait for the doctor (there were three or four ambulances there when we arrived). She was moaning in pain, so I got up to go see and asked the nurse in the hallway. Annalita told me to sit down and be quiet. They finally got her pain medication and admitted her. So I took care of her at home for a week before having to take her to Yuma Regional Medical Center Saturday, April 21. Thursday, April 19, 3:00 p.m. was Gloria Compos’ funeral at Needles Church of the Nazarene, Donna (Bryan) Mendez officiating. Hilton Bricker’s was Friday, April 20, 3:00 p.m., Donna again officiating. Sometime during those two or three days someone told us Betty Barrackman of Needles passed away. So Annalita was not the next one to go, it was these three. Then Donna came to play in the Fort Mojave Tribal Band at Elmer Emerson’s funeral Saturday morning. Donna had already called regarding plans to come see Annalita. So she and many from Fort Mojave and C.R.I.T., as well as Fort Yuma and Cocopah, were here for Elmer’s funeral and got to see Annalita in the hospital that Saturday. Many sang Gospel hymns and songs and prayed and read Scripture. Reverends Arnie and Roberta Short came with their adopted son Kevin Ray. Our district superintendent of the Southwest Native American District, Church of the Nazarene, Rev. John R. Nells, was there early in the week, I think. I do know he called on the cell phone. Some of my family called—my older brother Patrick “Terry” Tarlton and younger brother Robert Tarlton, and younger sister Rachel and older sister Lucille (I think Lucille called me a week or two later at home). I don’t remember hearing from my youngest sister Susie or my youngest brother Pete. I had thought the hospital staff would simply get fluids in Annalita and give her an enema, then send her home. But they just gave her stronger laxatives and finally gave her a suppository. She was unable to use a bedpan. They tried once to get her up to a bedside commode, but gave up and lay her back down. I wanted to help, telling them I did it at home, but they wanted to do it. They finally got her up to a bedside commode a few days later. Her problem was “eliminated.” I think I heard her say, “I’m so happy now.” She was on a liquid diet, but ingested very little of it. Of course they had her on I.V.s, and they gradually regulated her pain medicine. One time, I think twice, a nurse asked me for information. Annalita, probably thinking I was trying to tell them what to do, and her pain and discomfort causing noise and physical contact to distress her, said, “Fred, be quiet!” She had not talked with anyone on the phone for about three weeks, but she let me hold the phone to her ear for Rev. Arnie Short (this was before they came to see her, I think) and—I think it was Abbie—someone from the Haven family. Vivian (Townsend) Menta was there every day from morning to late at night. Vivian’s granddaughters Vanessa and Olivia were there once and really cried when they saw Annalita when sedated. The family—Vida (Cachora) Moreno and Jessie Moreno, and son Sammy, Wilma (Cachora) Solis and daughter April (Solis) Quintero—were there when they got off work until late at night. Other family members there much of the time were Glenda (Cachora) Ghiotto and daughters Mona (with daughter Reece), Grace, and Sylvia; David and Zulema Moreno. Other family there less frequently were James Solis, Anthony Solis, Michelle Rodriquez (she could not get herself to go into the room), Isaiah Daniel Quintero, Henry Ghiotto, Henry Michael Ghiotto, Jacob Ghiotto(?), Lisa (Moreno) DeCorse and children, and others. Wednesday night Glenda and others wanted to have our Wednesday night service in Annalita’s room, but there were too many of us. We decided to meet in the hospital chapel. Glenda had told me that many family members did not know all the details, so she had asked me to fill them in. In the chapel, I shared “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee.” I shared how I had helped Annalita pray more with my driving. When passing someone on Highway 95 to Needles, she would say, “Jesus, help me! Don’t let me die!” And when in pain from her illness, she would say, “Oh Jesus! Jesus!” During the week I cared for her at home, she slept most of the time from her pain medicine, Oxycodone. So she was not crying out to Jesus as much. But with everyone sharing Scripture, Gospel songs, and prayer, she was crying out to Jesus more. So I said they all helped Annalita keep her mind on Jesus, “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee.” I briefly applied it to ourselves as well. But I encouraged all to share with Annalita in prayer, songs, and Scripture. And I gave all the details. The first night in the hospital I was going to stay with Annalita. If I had known her time was as short as it was, I never would have left her side. But they told me to go home and get some rest. So that’s what I did every night. One morning when I came in an aid told me Annalita had called my name during the night. That broke my heart. Earlier in the week, when first taken in on Saturday, and again on Sunday, and again on Monday, the staff had asked me about resuscitating her, but I could not answer. Finally, after three days of being asked, a doctor, looking at me over her bed, asked again. I went out into the hallway. A nurse told me her condition if resuscitated. So I finally said that I guess I have to say no to her and the doctor. Sometime that week in the hospital, maybe on Wednesday, Glenda told me I needed to tell Annalita it was ok to let go and go Home (to Heaven). A nurse told me I needed to talk with Annalita. She said Annalita told her she was ok with dying, but she was concerned about her family. So I needed to tell her we were ok with her leaving us. But I could not make myself say these things to her. I did not want her to leave. I thought she would at least be with us a few more months. I DID NOT KNOW HER TIME WAS SO SHORT!!!!!!! I thought I would be taking care of her. One time in front of the elevators I was telling Grace and Sylvia and Mona Annalita had always been concerned about their spiritual welfare, and they needed to get right with God. What was it going to take for them to do that? Jesus died for them. Now Annalita was dying. What was it going to take! Grace asked, “So are we supposed to be Annalita’s disciples?” She turned a serious moment into a time of laughter. She made me laugh. I told them it was like a moment in the movie Steel Magnolias when Sally Field, after the graveside service for her daughter, was asking why? why? and felt like hitting something, one of the ladies told her, “Here! Hit Weeza! Half the county would give their eye teeth to take a slug at Weeza!” They all broke down with laughter. Weeza stomped off. So, like in the movie, Grace made us laugh. One night I felt light-headed and my chest hurt. I had experienced this earlier. At the elevators we were preparing to leave for the night. I told them I was going to go home and go to sleep, and wake up in Heaven, and get there before Annalita did. I had to go back to the room to get my cord for the cell phone—I had forgotten to charge it up the night before. Vivian also went to check on Annalita one more time. When Vivian left the room, I sensed something was wrong. I followed and called her. She said when I said I would …wake up in Heaven, and get there before Annalita… it hurt her. She cried, saying she had never expected anything like this happening to Annalita. I apologized. The following morning a chaplain, a Spanish lady, visited there in the room when Vivian and I were there. She told us she was a minister in the Methodist Church. When I told her Vivian was Annalita’s best friend, she shared about once losing her best friend. The way she described the experience made me realize Vivian’s pain. I made the statement that Vivian’s pain was the same as mine. I again apologized. Sometime after that Flora Palmer was there with Vivian and me in the room. Vivian asked us how does a person get saved. After we both responded, Vivian told us she had been attending church because Annalita invited her. But one day in Sunday School she saw the name Jesus on the dry erase board. She looked at that name and said to herself, “I love that man. I really love Him.” After that, she said, she wanted to come to church, she wanted to pray, she wanted to read the Bible, she didn’t want to play bingo. I turned to Flora and said, “I think she got saved.” Some time later Vivian told me she wondered if she was Annalita’s final work to be done. It made her feel responsible for Annalita’s death. She kind of wished she had waited. Annalita might still be here, she said. But I told her there were still a lot of things Annalita had wanted to do, and things she needed to do, but was unable. Once they had her pain medication regulated, they let her go home to her own bed after five days in the hospital. She was discharged Thursday morning. I was the only one with her for a short time. I thought her catheter was leaking. I tried to wipe her legs, but it looked like her skin came off. I decided to wait for the health nurse. While Vivian was with her at the parsonage, I went to get her some medical supplies—a “wedge” to sit her up in bed, some incontinence pads, sheepskin protectors for her heels, etc. Claudius, the tribal health nurse, came. She cleaned Annalita. She said the substance (it was like petroleum jelly in appearance) was not a discharge or leaking from her catheter. It was from her bowels. But her skin had not come off, it had just looked like it did. She was in her own bed Thursday night. They had much difficulty taking care of her. Vivian was up on the bed trying to help turn her, and it made Vivian’s knees hurt. Friday I finally gave in and let them order a hospital bed—she was sedated all the time with cries of pain when it was time for pain medicine every two hours as needed. But I thought the bed would come Monday. It was delivered the day it was ordered. I wanted her to be comfortable in her own bed. I don’t know if she experienced discomfort being in the hospital bed. I hoped her sedation took care of that. But they got her an “egg carton” foam rubber pad. I realized later that she had said something to me about getting one of those for her, about a month before she started getting worse. We were so busy with so many things, like attending “The Glory of Easter” the end of March with around forty people from our church and from the community, Annalita sponsoring the trip. I forgot or had no time to do so many things I later regretted not doing. When they discharged her from the hospital they prescribed methadone for her, so I hoped she could quit taking the morphine they also had her on. I hoped for some more good days. I DID NOT KNOW SHE WOULD BE LEAVING US SO SOON!!!!! But at the same time others urged me to make arrangements, which I thought was a month or more in advance of her departure. So I contacted Parker about arrangements, and received the following forwarded e-mail from Vivian (Townsend) Menta:
Subj.: Fwd: FW: Information 4/28/07, 1:55:27 p.m. from vlmenta to rtarltn7From: Johnson, Erna (IHS/PHX) Sent Friday,
April 27, 2007 11:41 AM To vlmenta@yahoo.com. Subject: Information. Importance: High. Please give this to Pastor Tarlton in
regards to CRIT cemetery: 1. A letter must be submitted for a request to have Annalita placed next to her Mother. 2. Fax the
letter to Valerie Tahbo, Council member (I will get you the fax #) with a copy (cc) to Priscilla Eswonia, Chair Cemetery
Committee. 3. It sounds favorable that the tribe will allow this to happen. Her cousins have already been asking, seems she told
her relatives she wanted to be in Parker when her time comes. But the tribe needs a letter from the Pastor. 4. Family or Quechan
tribe will have to pay for all food. Thanks. I will call him also. CRIT Executive Offices. Secretary: Valerie Welsh-Tahbo, (928)
669-9211; Fax (928) 669-1216.
But I finally realized to myself, not wanting to admit it, that if all she experienced was pain and sedation it would be better for her to go Home to be with Jesus. Friday night around 10:30 p.m. family called me to her bedside. She had been looking around, rolling her eyes. They thought she might be looking for me. When I went to her, she looked at me, unable to speak. I said, "These guys are sure taking care of you, aren't they?" She had told me once that when her time came, these guys here would not want to take care of her—it would be her family in Needles and Parker. But after I said, “These guys are…taking care of you…” she closed her eyes and went to sleep. I gave her pain medicine at midnight—her breathing was labored. After receiving the medicine she went to sleep. With family at her bedside, I fell asleep on the couch, near the foot of her bed there in the living room. At 2:30 a.m. Saturday I woke and heard her again breathing labored, but now it sounded like she needed suctioned. I was groggy and could not think. All I could think about was she needed suctioned. (Later Vivian told me she had been like that Thursday while I was in town getting the medical supplies. She said it scared her.) I later realized we should have turned her off of her left side and onto her back and raised her into a sitting position. I don’t know if that would have helped. All through the process, from the time she got worse, I had been “second guessing” every decision. Even now I wonder if a lot of things should have been done differently. But I called the health nurse, but got the answering machine. I called her best friend, Vivian, who had gone home just before midnight. She was going to call her friend, a nurse. Before anyone could call back, I heard one of her nieces, Mona, crying. I rushed to Annalita's side to see her breathing her last breaths. I grabbed her hand and cried out her name, but she was gone. Vida urged us to have her taken to Yuma to avoid the red tape of California, which would involve a coroner from El Centro, being taken there, etc., fifty miles away. The paramedics came. I did not have paper that said do not resuscitate, so they tried to resuscitate her. So I knew everything was done that could be done. The entire family soon heard and came before the paramedics took her to YRMC. Philipe Solis Jr. and girlfriend Vanesha(?) came. I told him Annalita was always praying for him, and wanted him to get right with God. He’s always drinking. Jesse drove me to the hospital. We were all in the waiting room. A doctor came and told us the time they pronounced her dead. Reverends Ray and June Stillings were there. They went with me to see her. They were going to let me see her alone, but I think I just went out with them. We were all in the waiting room. June helped us talk about arrangements. Annalita’s family said she once joked about having her funeral at First Church because a lot of people would be there. So that was what was decided. The next day, Sunday, during the morning service Associate Pastor Rev. Paul Soto asked me to announce plans for the funeral. I had been sitting in the congregation, not leading the service because of my grief. At the pulpit, I could hardly speak. It was like I had a bad sore throat when I spoke of the tentative arrangements. Throughout Annalita’s illness I begged God to heal her, or at least add days and strength to her life. I always had a sore throat from begging Him for this. Even after she was gone, both before and after her cremation, I told God it would be a wonderful miracle for Him to bring her back.